


Final Freedom

by OikurooMiyuki



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2596082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OikurooMiyuki/pseuds/OikurooMiyuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras narrates how his life went from attempting to liberate his country, to the sorrow of falling in love with his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Final Freedom

“Liberty, equality, fraternity, or death; - the last, much the easiest to bestow, O Guillotine!”  
― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

As a child, mother always told me to love myself as much as I have ever loved anyone else. She said people usually think it makes more sense to love others more because you never know when they can be gone, but she thought of it foolish; shouldn’t we enjoy our own life and love as well, for we never know when it might be gone? We live a life, and we die with it. I think it’s not a question on who to love more, but a question of love itself.

Unfortunately, as I grew older, I grew angered and lonely. I didn’t live for love, but for hate, hate towards the authority. I hated to see my people starve and die on the streets as the elite enjoyed every day and every night the beauty of massive meals and the laughter caused by arrogant and pretentious conversations. I made it my duty to liberate them, to end it all, to give happiness and love back to them once again, even if it would cost me my life.

Perhaps I was a demon consumed by the flames of rage in search for the pure sense of death and liberty. Perhaps my brain had no common sense, just the voice whispering poisonous and vicious words of rebellion, but against what? And did I truly mind about those unfair events my heart seemed unhappy with? Or was it just a way to have a reason to live, or even to die?  
All I knew was I was a God, and not those of fairy tales, leaving you in the intriguing limbo of unanswered questions about fate. I was the God that gave fate on a silver plate. I was a real, adored, and charming God.

Regardless of how sure I seemed about my cause, I began to doubt as I stared into the eyes of those willing to follow me through death and war. I questioned whether they were sure of their actions, or if they were just as immature as those we fought. Maybe they were as lost and considered their lives as pointless as I did. However, maybe it was the total opposite, and if so, do they deserve to die for a cause created by an empty man? Madness, the elixir of the anarchic souls provoking dozens of people to follow my lead.  
But how did I do it? How did I kill them? Where they sure about their actions, or were they simply enchanted by the beauty of my words? Regardless of their actions and causes, how was I able to lead them to death, feeling nothing but anger and selfishness? Innocent children, with a life to live, a future to have, and I took all away…  
But killing them was not the worst, it was killing that one man to whom my heart I gave at dawn. Yes, a man, a friend, a lover, and a companion. He could be a warrior, an angel, a savior, a reason to live, and yet a reason to die.

He gave me happiness, every day that passed by, every sweetened glance, and every foolish smile overwhelmed my lungs, leaving me breathless.  
I remember the very beginning, we were just unafraid students, searching the joy in life, but we found nothing other than blood, disease, and pain. We never searched for love, yet we found that. Step by step, quietly and passionately, we became closer: First acquaintances, then friends, brothers, and finally lovers. I remember that dawn, when alone we found ourselves exiting our favorite café, walking down the dark alley like any day. I remember staring into the deep abysm of his dark eyes, as he excitedly moved around telling some brilliant story. His bright smile shinning with every word, and his dark messy hairs covering his face every once in a while. And his voice… His rusty and yet fine voice vibrating through my ears, melting my brains and making my heart fly away. I am no poet, and yet he made me want to rhyme every word and every sentence that I formed. He made me want to sing my lungs out forming melodies that have never been heard before, he made me want to laugh and live my life like I have never done before. For a man filled with anger and not a single reason to be alive, he changed it all in a heartbeat, in confusion and despair, lost and yet found, I wanted the world to stop spinning and to pause time so I could enjoy his existence forever. My chest filled with love, and my thoughts surrounding his name.

I knew it was too big of a risk, I was aware of the tremendous mistake this action could become into, but his fine lips called for me, yelled my name in desperation, and my mouth salivated every time I thought about touching those lips with my own. I needed it, and I was willing to risk this much for taking the next step. He was my drug, and I could not keep it quiet for any longer. And so I pushed him against one of the walls that left the alley in a shadow, his confusion excited me and terrified me equally. With my arm on his chest, stopping him from leaving, I drew myself closer as fast as I could, faster than I could think, or faster than any of us could react.

Time slowed down, our minds froze, and even if our bodies remained in the dark alley, it felt like we were in a glorious mountain bathed in sunlight. And yet he was paralyzed, I stepped back, tormented by my mistake and thinking about running away when I noticed something. The confusion in his eyes had become passion, gratitude, happiness, and a childish excitement. Slowly he grabbed the neck of my shirt, and pulled me towards him. I obeyed and as I got closer, he kissed me again.

Days passed, months as well, and we kept our love in secret. We belonged to a dark time where there was no place for love, and even less for the rare kind, man with man? Abomination, they called it, but how could they? It was harmless love that only made us happier and helped us live with excitement. It gave us a reason to wake up in the morning with a purpose and a smile. How could they discriminate something they have never felt, and call it something as horrible as abomination?  
But I didn’t mind, my heart belonged to him, and my life was his to spare day after day. It destroyed us to remain silent about the source of our happiness, yet I could have sworn that our closest ones were, at least, suspicious about the whole affair. But every time I spoke my mind to him, he denied it, and called me mad as he graciously laughed and messed my hair. Oh how much I wished I were like him, indifferent towards the rest of the world, and only caring about his own or my opinion. He was a whole new and unexplored galaxy, filled with intellectual thoughts and greatness.

I could write about every day we spent together, how every flower blossomed and how every raindrop was a splash of color that filled our souls as we ran down the streets like children who don’t know a thing about life.  
But we did know about life, and we knew too much. We knew that the happy days always end, and we knew that the end was closer every day. They say dreams take a long time to happen, and they go fast, and there has never been a bigger truth than that.  
One night, I was alone at the café, looking out the window and thinking about the remaining days. I remember our discomfort towards the law and how we dreamed of changing it, how we stepped forward to make everyone open their eyes and fight for our rights, we wanted the revolution, and God gave us that. How foolish was I to think I was a God? It was not until I found the love of a man that I saw the true in my existence. A God does not seek the touch, the smell, and the taste of another man. I am no God. I am simply a lover.

But what was I supposed to do now, with warriors at my front door, waiting for my orders? It was too late to go back, and I could only go forward. And if I was going forward with this madness, with this crazy idea of dying for a cause, I had to do it without him. He had to survive, and he had to live to see the changed future, and be happy. It was then when I realized my purpose had changed, I wasn’t an angry man anymore, I wasn’t a God, and I wasn’t lonely and empty. I became what mother always told me to be, a person filled with love who doesn’t mind about the rest of the world, I loved someone else, I loved myself and I even loved life itself. That’s when I noticed that I did not go forward with this cause that would lead me to my death for the war, the change, or the belief of being a God. I did it for him. And that was enough. Knowing that I was sacrificing myself for his salvation was enough to make me drive the knife into my chest on my own. Knowing this would secure a future and give him a better life, I would have gone to the end of the world and fight and entire hell filled with demons if I had to.

That night, the night of war, he was not there as I had hoped. I was alone, with the rest of the soldiers, afraid and cold. We were all ready to die, waiting for the enemy to take down our door and come after us. One by one, they all went down, dying like flies, firing shots trying to at least make their deaths count. There were no barriers between the enemy and us, the field covered in fire and bodies. It terrified me when I saw I was the last one there, and so I ran. Not ran away, but ran to the only place on this earth where I knew I could die happy, the place that I have ever been happy.

I arrived to the café, surrounded by enemies with guns pointed at my head. I was alone, everyone was dead, and I could only pray. “Lord forgive my soul, and let him live. Let him…” I was done being a god, I was done being angry, and I was prepared to die alone for the man that I loved. Yet deep down, I wanted him to be there with me, to see his beautiful face for the last time. That’s when I heard steps, and there he was, making his way through the enemies towards me. His smile of a friend who knows what you did and appreciates it, but the look of a man who made his own choice. I knew that he didn’t want to be saved, he wanted to die with me, this was also his cause, no matter how much we changed the future for the world, he would never be happy without me. We were both addicted to each other, and we both needed the other person to have a reason to live. It was only then I forgave God for not listening to my prayer, for I knew he only chose a better ending for us, the ending we both wanted, and I thanked him for that.

He stood next to me, as we cried, and smiled at the same time, he held my hand as tight as he ever did before, confronting the enemies, looking at their guns. We were ready to die. We were ready to be together for the rest of eternity in paradise, and honestly, between love and life, I choose love because life isn’t worth living without love.


End file.
